Originally posted by: Transference
As if she’s the moonbeam drenched in exquisiteness while the sun has burnt his skin.
She is the finesse of the autumnal dew drops! He is the loo breeze from the summer heat...
She is the fragrance of the spring wilderness; he is the moss of the monsoon.
Who said that May December fantasy is only about the age difference?
Sigh! The overlapping of their spaces is something the world shall never understand!
This is such a different take- I am not sure I am gully grasping the meaning. Will read it a couple of times to understand 🙈